So I was at the beach last week, and it was awesome. It was beautiful and lovely and sunny and warm and I read a ton of books and I loved it. Yadda yadda yadda. And then...on the last night, somebody robbed my family's car and a couple of other cars, too. And I'm mad. Other people had more significant/expensive/valuable stuff stolen, so I can't even imagine their emotions right now, because mine are pretty intense.
Here's what was taken from me: a bunch of movies (that I know and love with all my heart!), three pairs of shoes (that's six shoes in all. I really like shoes), my hairdryer, and my makeup. My good makeup that I just spent a ton of money on at Ulta. It's legit makeup. And now it's gone.
Y'all, nobody is going to get the same joy I got out of all my stuff. No other girl has feet as big as mine, so it's not like anyone else on earth can actually wear those shoes. And there are not a lot of girls with faces quite as pale as mine. So can someone else actually wear my makeup? I'd like to think not. And my movies and my hairdryer...I loved those things. Not to mention the bag they were in. Mrs. Wall got that for me for high school graduation and it was really pretty with polka dots on it and it had my monogram on it. It was a really nice bag.
And now it's gone. My stuff is gone.
And I could be positive. I could say, "At least my Chacos weren't stolen." or, "Thank goodness nobody got hurt." But no, I would rather be bitter.
Just kidding. I mean, I'm not kidding, but I probably should be haha.
But then I started thinking about what if somehow through the robbery and whatever, somebody actually got hurt or even died? I thought about how that would affect the loss of my things. I enjoy movies because I watch them with people. And they're generally about and made by people. I need shoes because they're functional, but I like them because they're pretty. Also sometimes I wear them to impress people with my taste in footwear. And I like makeup. Even though I don't wear it during Camp, and have only worn it once in the past six weeks (I'm kind of proud of that fact), that doesn't mean I want it stolen from me. I like having it. Also it's a conformity thing, because, even though I feel perfectly comfortable without makeup on, everybody else wears it, and I want to be like everybody else because I like everybody else. (At least most of them.) But I digress. I like makeup because it allows me to very indirectly please people. I think there are some mind games in there. It's kind of like wearing makeup brings me closer to people because it makes me just like them. I use my hairdryer because I'm too prideful to let my hair dry with just normal air and I'm too insecure to not fix it up the way I like. Even if that means leaving it down. It's kind of like the makeup thing; it gave me control over my appearance. And lastly, I like bags because they hold all my stuff. And I like stuff. I'm kind of a pack rat. Also bags are pretty. I like pretty things because then when I carry them and other people see them, those other people think I'm nice and cool and classy.
So...all of the stuff I don't have anymore allowed me to be close to or bond with people. They all started out as good things but I turned them into bad things because I have a sinful nature. Like I can't even help it, no matter how hard I try, and how sincerely I try to live. I'm helpless against my sin. I've been this way since forever. Since birth. I'm still wondering exactly what newborn infants do that is sinful, but I don't doubt that they are. Anyways.
And now I'm getting frustrated because come on, is there seriously no aspect of my life that sin has not ingrained itself into? Everything I do and everything I say and every stinking time I put on shoes or blow-dry my hair or put on mascara or carry a bag or watch a movie, whether or not I realize it, there's some sin in there. Just embedded deeply and quite sneakily, I might add. My motives are never pure. Neverrrrrr!
And that makes me mad because I like to think I'm pretty cool. I was looking at myself in the mirror recently (without makeup!) and I told myself that I have bright, eager eyes and full lips...not Angelina Jolie full, but adequately full. Maybe even prettily full. And I'm pretty nice to people on a general basis, and if I don't like them, I just suck it in like I suck in my waist when I'm pretending to be Scarlett O'Hara. Because sometimes I like to do that.
I'm really good at a lot of things: talking with my mouth full, being passive-aggressive, loudly saying really dumb things that are also offensive to people without even thinking first, slouching, and letting any encouragement I receive go straight up to my head. There's another area of my life containing sin: the encouragement department. People encourage me, and I thank them and act all sweet and humble and cute, and then verbally but not quite sincerely give the glory to God, whatever that means. But all the glory goes to God. Anything good about myself goes straight to Him because any good thing about myself is Him. Any and all of it. Even for the things that I had the idea for. Because it wasn't my idea. I just like to think I'm original and nifty. I can't even help it. But everything I do is God through me. I'm a conduit. So it's not me who's pretty cool most of the time. It's me who is terrible always, and God who swoops in and picks me up and makes me tolerable. And whole. And pure.
In the part of the Bible where it says, "but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal" somebody should have starred, highlighted, underlined, and tabbed that verse. Actually I take that back. If I did that with every verse that was insanely relevant to my life that like one, my whole Bible would be starred, highlighted, underlined, and tabbed.
And now to address that verse (Matthew 6:20) - if I read my Bible more often, maybe I would have remembered to actually obey that verse and store up some freaking treasures and quit storing stuff down here. Because there's just no point in storing stuff here on earth. Sometimes basements flood and water damage happens to stuff. Sometimes your sisters borrow your stuff and never give it back. Sometimes moths eat your clothes that were sitting in the back of your closet that you were never going to wear but wanted to keep anyways. Sometimes you get a pretty pink and purple bike for your fifth birthday, and then suddenly you're nineteen and the bike is really rusty and gross. Sometimes dumb people steal your shoes and your hairdryer and your movies and your brand new, really nice makeup and the pretty bag that you got for graduation and you realize that you were attached to your stuff, like a barnacle. In an unhealthy way.
And there ain't nothing you can do about it. Except for get bitter, which I was all day. Maybe not out loud so much, but inside I was mad. I just don't appreciate knowing that somebody else has my stuff. It's mine! Here's something I'm not good at: sharing. I'm good at sharing hugs and cookies, but that's about it. I don't like people taking my stuff because...it's mine. And that's the best reason I can come up with. Pretty lame.
If I actually used my brain every once in a while, I would recognize and realize that it's just stuff. It's just stuff. Just stuff. Just stuff. I don't bold or italicize or underline words a lot, so you know I really mean it when I do.
For reals though, it's just stuff. It doesn't even matter. In ten years, will I remember those pretty teal shoes I bought at Target that looked like Keds that weren't real Keds but just as cute and fun? Well, to be honest, I probably will. I have a pretty good memory when it comes to things that don't matter even a little bit (and a pretty bad memory when it comes to math formulas). I will remember them fondly. I might remember what happened to those shoes, and if I do, I'll look back and think about the lesson I learned when those shoes were stolen. The lesson I'm learning right now, as I type. It's a pretty big one, it turns out.
So what I've learned is: don't get so attached to shoes, because they'll all break or get stolen anyways. They can't last forever, and if they do, those are some pretty impressive shoes. And they're still not going to Heaven with you, which is where your actual treasure is. Being united with God in unending worship is your treasure! I hate to say this because it means that I was wrong (again), but praising God forever (forever!) is better than three pairs of shoes, eight movies, a hairdryer, $120 in makeup, and a pretty polka-dotted bag with my monogram on it. Actually, it's better than everything I own, have ever owned, and ever will own. Significantly.
Love,
Lauralicious
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